


Romy Etude 51

by nihm



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:10:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihm/pseuds/nihm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a bid to overthrow Nur, Raven is happy to use everyone around her as a chess piece, including her  daughter. Remy and Anna begin a tenuous relationship but it leads them through personal turmoil. (This is a continuation of Romy Etude 5 from FF)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romy Etude 51

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of Romy Etude 5 (posted on FF) The first chapter of this fic is the last chapter of that one. (I haven't quite figured out how italics work on this site.)
> 
> Please review.

Rora’s last text had reassured him at the time.

“Bailed out. Going home.”

After that he had destroyed his phone as promised. But in the intervening weeks he wished he had asked more. He wondered about Anna…how she had fallen apart that last day. Had she been put back together? He didn’t know what he would find but he was going to Jura, or Phi Nguyen was going at any rate. He printed the visa and ticket off at the kiosk before walking, walking, walking to the distant terminal where all the little puddle jumpers and personal shuttles were docked.

The ship was small. The kind that gets loud and hot during exit and reentry and then fucking cold for the duration of the trip. Vibration from the ventilation system rattled the inside of the shuttle. People lined the interior of the hull on seats made of cargo netting, so tight their knees touched across the width of the fuselage. Passengers held duffle bags and babies on their laps. The heat of bodies grew uncomfortable and the sound of quiet conversations punctuated by children’s cries filled his ears. He knew Jura was small, a backwater where wheat, oats, corn, rice, and cotton were collected into great silos before being shipped out to more populated planets, but having travelled there only on Anna’s ship he had not realized the sorts of accommodation he should expect. When all of the passengers were aboard a pallet of live chickens was loaded behind them. He rolled his eyes and leaned his head back on the netting.

Madripoor had been, and still was, a good idea he decided; a refuge, a retreat…a place to be at ease and get his bearings…and it felt good to have an established identity and an apartment just in case, but It also felt good to be on the move again, even with such accommodations. The impulse to wander had perhaps been satisfied when he traveled with Anna and Kurt, or suppressed by the pleasantness of companionship and the fear of Victor, which still lingered at the back of his mind.

She had it right when she called him a deserter. He didn’t like the word but it was undeniable, and he had to admit to himself that he felt some shame. He tried to reason himself out of it. The work had been too brutal, too mindless, too violent. They had done things that were…wrong. And still he felt deficient for leaving. Not good enough. Not strong enough to do what needed to be done, and hadn’t he been told it was all “necessary”, and he had believed it until he was there, wiring the explosives, pushing the buttons, collapsing the underground tunnels filed with ‘Morlocks’, people too poor to live anywhere else. All his talk of right and wrong seemed like cowardice, a cover for him to flee under. Is it cowardice to refuse to kill children? Is it cowardice to refuse to kill any more children?  
Traveling to another planet to chase a girl suddenly seemed stupid, petty.

 

* * *

 

 

The cabinet member filtered in one by one. Men of old or middling age and their attendants, the various experts Nur deemed valuable for running his government. There were 14 of them in all and each had their own entourage of analysts, advisors, and secretaries filling the room to its stifling brim. She was among the handful who advised Buckman on issues pertaining to commerce and certain sectors of Industrial logistics and she was slated for a promotion, on the wings of an old rivalry and on the generous patronage of Oyama Heavy Industries and Wagner’s KAS. It would not surprise her in fact if Nur was folding in the fledgling, but growing, security firm as a coup-proofing measure.  
At the 12th hour everyone stood and Nur entered. He towered above normal men and Raven sometimes wondered at how such a body made for war also housed a mind made for manipulation, subjugation, and tireless, methodical bureaucracy. She was admittedly jealous.  
He menaced over his audience for a moment.

“Be seated.” He orated at last, a high priest presiding over the rituals of formality. The room filled with the momentary shuffle of sitting bodies and was silent again. At length he too sat and began the meeting.

“As you may have noticed Minister Song is not present today. He passed away this week and will be greatly missed.” A moment of silence was observed. “In his place many of you have recommended Ms. Darkholm.” His words rolled out like thunder and she could not help but feel humbled…it unnerved her. He graced her with his glance and indicated that she should stand. She obeyed with her hands clasped crisply before her. “Ms Darkholm has provided invaluable analysis to inform the decisions made by this office and those below it and she is herself expert in administration, finance, agricultural policy, and logistics. She has, since the untimely death of the governor, overseen the entire city and prefecture of Jura, responsible for producing 39% of the Union’s food crops. Today Ms. Darkholm…” His eyes rested on her again and prepared to utter the official words “I elevate you to the position of Minister of Agriculture with all of the accompanying duties and privileges. As a servant of the Union we trust that you shall execute the duties of your office with diligence and loyalty.” Raven cocked her head and half bowed in an improvised but ultimately graceful show of respect. Nur stretched out his arm and indicated the vacant seat at the long Maplewood table. Applause went up all around as she swept past in her midnight silks, past Buckman, past Shaw, past Essex, to the empty spot vacated by the recently deceased pharmaceutical mogul. Much like his granddaughter, she suspected he had been killed by Essex…but she would never know. She glanced at Essex as she sat. He tilted his head to return her gaze and he still clapped, but his half smile and lazily lidded eyes spoke the truth of his estimation of her. She stared back at him dully. He would be a handsome man were he not a psychopath.

  
“Congratulations Raven. A long deserved promotion.” He whispered to her in the dying clatter of applause. It rankled her that he spoke to her, her first name even, with his unnaturally sweet voice, that he condescended to praise her at all. She was mostly successful in suppressing her sneer as she nodded to him. He laughed a derisive, all knowing laugh, and leaned back in his seat. The applause subsided and Nur continued, gazing into his leather portfolio.

“What is the consensus on the worlds in the 6th Quadrant. These have been much on my mind of late.”

Raven looked down and enjoyed the play of gold boteh on the deep blue of her Sari. She would not speak on matters so soon after her appointment. She listened to the arguments of the cabinet without looking up, as she knew each voice by heart.

“I would not destroy such a resource for no reason whatsoever, but it cannot become common knowledge after having been so long kept secret.”

“It is ridiculous to even consider sparing these worlds for their “resources”. Maintaining the demographics of the Union does not require any more resources. Asteroids can be mined. Food is well managed as it is. Earth is under remediation”

“Laughable. The ‘remediation’ you speak of will take centuries even if it is fully funded…which it isn’t may I remind you”

“What of science? What of medicine? What undiscovered compounds are locked up in the flora and fauna of these worlds.”  
“Only one is currently habitable. The costs of terraforming them are too great.”

“The cost is only an excuse. People are overcrowded and Earth is a cesspool. They are poor. They would do anything for a place to expand to.”

“Frankly I don’t understand the rush to determine the fate of these planets. The space is restricted…no one knows anything of them.”

“That is naïve.”

“What sort of managed expansion could we allow?”

“None! We have economic equilibrium and we must strive to protect it.”

She lowered her head further to hide her smile. _One mans "economic equilibrium" was another mans status quo._

Nur spoke again, demanding the thing that Raven was determined to avoid. “What is your opinion on this Darkholm.”  
She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. Of course expansion would destabilize the Union…it was the only chance she could see on the horizon to truly shake up the oligarchy…but she couldn’t say that. That was not a part of the script meant for them.  
“It will undoubtedly be difficult to maintain…”equilibrium”…as Advisor Buckman alluded to earlier. However, it is easier to destroy a planet than to re-create it should we decide it is valuable. If there is any reservation whatsoever we should delay liquidation.”  
Essex nodded as did a few others, but she could see Buckman staring her down across the table. Under normal circumstances she would have been nervous, but in a few more months she would have nothing to worry about from him either.

 

* * *

  
When he was living on the Rogue he would sometimes climb the stairs to the cockpit and sit next to Anna if Rora was not already there. She would take off her red headphones and give him a little nod of acknowledgment.

  
“Isn’t this thing on auto pilot? Why you gotta sit in the cockpit all day long? Come back and play some poker wit’ us.” Inviting her to activities had about a 50% success rate. Enough to keep him asking in any case.

  
She smiled. “It’s a good habit to stay up here and watch in case there’s anything weird in the flight path…like an asteroid or something.”  
“You’re goin’ like…a thousand miles a second. How you gonna avoid an asteroid. Tell me you’ve ever had to do that.”

  
“I have.”

  
“Bullshit.”

  
“No joke…it was on some elliptical orbit and it was coming right at me. The sensors went off and the ship slowed down…but it just kept coming. It was easy enough to maneuver out of its path but it was so weird it took me a second to realize what was goin’ on.”

  
“You’re a very responsible pilot den because I’d be dead.” It was a peace keeping comment. He suspected that she just wanted an excuse to decline for whatever reason.

  
Even so…she laughed. She looked at him. She smiled. A genuine and beguiling smile utterly devoid of pretense. Don’t smile at me like dat p’tit. You wouldn’t smile if you knew ‘bout me. Still, he couldn’t help but smile back. It was in such moments that he wondered what she truly wanted from him, because she seemed more than friendly but less than flirtatious. She declined his invitation and yet gave all the indications of one who wanted his company. There was a cautious affection in all of her conversations with him, as though she wanted them to be more than just strangers, more than professionals, but how much more wasn’t clear. Only at the hotel, after he forced the issue, did he know for certain that she wanted him, and that knowledge had taken root in his mind until months later he was still thinking about it.

  
He was still thinking about it when the shuttle began its descent, old school, swept wing, a bumpy jostle and bounce down the runway. When it finally taxied to its parking spot the cargo ramp descended and the livestock slid off the runners onto a forklift. There were a few men dressed like administrators and he worried that his identity might have been compromised, but they were merely spouses.  
He cursed himself for his excessive rumination as he carried his duffle bag across the tiny airfield, as he sat at the bar, as he ordered a drink. He cursed himself for having acted impetuously and for now being here, in a strange place with no place to stay for the night…again. This sort of obsession was rare for him. Only one other had inspired such foolishness… But no, this Anna was not like Belle…this Anna was in his mind. He wanted her merely because she was out of sight, mysterious to him, a creature part memory and part imagination. He merely needed to touch her to banish it. To see her again. To hear her again.

  
A few drinks at the bar and the bartender had given him the address of a hostel for migrant farm workers. Hotels were not really a thing in this part of Jura, but hostels were not really his style either.

He left, warmed by the liquor, and made his way to the hangars, the part of the airfield where small freighters and local craft were parked. The Pegasus, The Emerald Dawn, The London Blonde, The “Something in Korean”, the Legacy…on and on they went for a mile he estimated. He sauntered lazily past the Queen Rania, then stopped, lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the slanting sunlight and peered down the long row of ships. He didn’t want to walk all the way to the end of the flight line, but he had made it this far. Maybe this was a sign that he shouldn’t have come. He sat down under the hull of the Queen Rania and took out a little pocket flask that he’d lifted recently.

Maybe she’s on a delivery. He thought a little disappointed…but if she was maybe it was a kind of reprieve because what was he really going to say to her anyway?

He pressed his palms into his eyes and took out a cigarette, leaned back onto his duffle bag until he was comfortably reclined, and looked at the sky.

Dis’ nice. He allowed himself to relax, to become distracted. The weather was pleasant and the sunset colors were beautiful projected onto the white mares’ tails. He took another drag of his cigarette and didn’t think. The sky deepened and sunset passed into twilight as his cigarette burned down. He could hear rumbling from a long way off, too gentle to be a ship and he turned his head to look for the source. It was a fuel truck pulling up to one of the ships he had passed. A worker with a bright yellow vest hopped down and started uncoiling a heavy hose with a lamprey like nozzle. Remy hopped up and waved. “Hey.” He shouted as he jogged over. The man raised his head and looked at him a little annoyed. “Hey, you know a ship called Rogue?” He called out from about fifty paces.

The man nodded. “Maintenance Hanger.” He yelled and pointed across the tarmac. “Right there.”

He found himself ascending the ramp quietly, carefully, he wasn’t sure why. When he was almost at the joint of the ramp he peered into the bay and saw no one, heard no one. Then there was the faintest humming coming from the viewing lounge overhead.  
“Ello?” He shouted into the echoing bay. The quick clatter of footsteps followed at Anna ran around the railings and peered down. Shock crossed her face and a little smile.

  
“Well I’ll be damned Cajun. Rora said you wandered off into the night. Ah didn’t think I’d see you again.

  
Her face was bright and confident. It put him at ease, half expecting to find the agitated mess he left behind.

  
“Heh…Dis Cajun full o’ surprises.”

  
“Come up here. What are you doing in town?”

  
It felt like a warm welcome. It made him happy.

They settled onto the couch in the viewing lounge and he pulled the flask out of his bag. He offered her a little and was surprised when she took it from him. She tilted her head back and swallowed twice, then smiled wryly as she handed it back to him. “I always expect it to be sweet and it never is.”

  
“Chere if you want sweet liquor I can get you some.” He took a long swig himself and put the cap back on. Already he felt the beginnings of a buzz. A pleasant heaviness in his muscles. They had settled back into a friendly banter almost immediately, like he’d never left and it was almost a little weird given the circumstances they parted under. He didn’t want to bring it up. It might be too heavy for what he was here for.

  
_And what are you here for homme?_

  
He didn’t even know. He’d already refused her once…nothing had changed. He knew that. She knew that.

  
“So why’re you in Jura?” She asked, catching him off balance by pulling the thoughts from his mind.

  
“I got an interview at de seed factory.” He lied.

  
She laughed “The Ag complex? Are you a geneticist or somethin’?” She asked with gentle sarcasm. “What kinda work are you gonna do for them?”

  
“Security stuff.” He said vaguely, and took another sip by way of distraction.

  
She proffered her hand and he passed her the flask again. She drank and handed it back but she was leaning towards him now. Her body language was warm, inviting. He took note.

  
_Was it always this way? She just keeps a lid on it until she gets a little tipsy?_ He didn’t remember her drinking much in all the time they traveled together.

  
“Like walkin’ around with a gun and shooting the bad guys that go there to steal seeds?” She laughed.

  
“Hey, dey got secret stuff there. Research stuff.”

  
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll never understand what’s so secret about genetically engineered corn or whatever.” She waved her hand…letting it go. He happily took the cue and took another drink.

  
“You know…I’m lucky I ran into you. Thought you’d be running all over the galaxy like you usually do.” He found his body language shifting to match hers, pulling his knee onto the couch, leg flush to the fabric. Now they were a scant six inches from each other, leaning in like conspirators.

  
“Nope, I’m grounded…Ship needs maintenance.”

  
“So you just hang around?”

  
“I _do_ some of it, but yeah, mostly I’ve just been readin’”

  
“What do you read?”

  
She smiled at him. “Silly books.”

  
“You should read some to me.” The line was so corny he took his flask out again. Perhaps he could blame it on the alcohol.

  
“Somehow I think my literature could be a bit too silly for a man like you.”

  
“Oh yeah…what kinda man am I petit?” He smirked, tried to make it sound sexy, but he sounded a little sad instead.

  
She shuffled nearer holding his gaze, almost touching him, reached over and took the flask out of his hand again, drank from it. A gesture he found profoundly encouraging. He had not given explicit thought to what he intended to do by coming here. He only knew that he wanted to come. And he realized that some ancient part of his brain was driving him, some base urge, some primal chemistry that he was tangentially aware of only by his desire to touch her, to coax smiles and blushes from her.

  
“I think you’re a complicated man Mr. Le Beau.” She said plainly. There were a thousand different ways she could have spun that line and the one she picked was unreadable…she was never obvious about what she wanted, even inches away from her as he was, she didn’t radiate the sort of desire that most women radiated. Perhaps it was her inexperience…her inability to flirt, to signal. He didn’t know. At moments he thought he caught glimpses of her lust intermingled with shyness, or professionalism, or something else that held her in check.

  
“Heh…I bet you say dat to all de boys you lure onto your ship.” He quipped back.

  
She laughed. “I think that’s technically true.”

  
“Oh?” He said as he took the flask back from her, brushing her knuckles with his fingertips. Nothing. God dammit he wanted her to be obvious. He wanted her to ask for it. She sat so close to him he could feel the warmth of her breath, all the angles of her body were welcoming him, but if he reached out and kissed her it might be too much.

  
“Yeah.” Was all she said.

  
He just looked at her for a beat and she looked back…the moment grew, became awkward, but when he thought she would look away, she said haltingly “Why didn’t you want me…when we were in New Madripoor?”

  
The question gave him goose bumps. It was a question he had asked himself but he knew the reason and he figured it was a good reason. He licked his lips before he answered.

  
“You were drunk Chere.” A response he thought would be instantly accepted and would absolve him of his rejection.

  
“Was that really it?” She asked pointedly, slowly. “Because it seems like you were interested until I told you…” She opened her palm and gave the slightest shrug.

  
He nodded slowly “Yeah...dat’s true.” And he lowered his gaze for a moment to think. Why me? Wouldn’t you want dat to be special or sometin? He couldn’t say that though and risk making her feel somehow immoral for being willing to sleep with a vagabond and a thief like himself on her first go round, not to mention the other words that could apply to him. He revised ever so slightly. “You’d wanna be sober y’ first time, wouldn’t you?” He looked back up at her. A thread of bitterness at himself for dissuading her and a thread of frisson at the direction this evening was going.

  
Her eyes were fixed on him, searching his face, and he was unable to break her gaze this time. His pulse buzzed in his ears. At length she offered him a slow nod.

  
“I can see that…” She paused. “but, sober I would never have…” she pressed her lips together thoughtfully and gathered herself. He was not surprised to hear her say it. That she never would have come upstairs with him in the first place…

  
“…I would never have had the courage…” She left off there, trusting that enough had been spoken. His pulse picked up another beat.

  
_Fuck it, just kiss her_

  
“Looks like you got de courage now p’tit.” He teased as he slipped his arms around her waist, pulled her into an embrace, felt her delicate shudder.

  
“Dis what you want?” He whispered against her cheek and pulled back again briefly, enjoying the wide eyed wonderment and inexperienced fearfulness commingled. Her hands grasped his biceps and her breath came fast and shallow. But she didn’t answer him and he wanted to hear it…

  
“How ‘bout dis.” As he pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back timidly, stiffly and he answered with calculated aggression, gently forcing her mouth open. And then it was…perfect. Perfect suppleness, perfect tender submission. He could practically feel her melting, relaxing against him. Her grasp became an embrace and as he withdrew her teeth tugged gently at his lower lip making him moan involuntarily.

It was a yes.


End file.
